Alessandra Eramo’s solo LP – whose title’s English translation corresponds to “How I Learnt To Fly” – is theoretically grounded on a few essential elements: flies (recorded during the transformation of larvae into insects and used in several segments), an ancient-sounding piano reminding yours truly of long-disappeared Giovanni Sturmann (does someone remember him?), field recordings, her vocals, a twanging detuned zither. The underlying concept, she writes, has to do with reflecting “upon the sense of beauty, dealing with the common fear and phobia of death and destruction”.

However, these six tracks sound like disjointed and ultimately abortive attempts at something that is not really clear, perhaps not even inside the mind of the person who created them. In fact they emerge as rather skimpy, both on a compositional level and from the point of view of mere acoustic gratification. Tapes of Easter ritual processions from the South of Italy – where Berlin resident Ezramo’s family roots lie – can only go so far if almost nothing happens after that (“Singing In The Night Of The Resurrection”). The voice doesn’t convince, neither in the opening “Les Jeux Sont Faits”, nor in the superimpositions of “Last Canone Before Flying”. At the end of the day, the short “Dreaming In The Cocoon” – based on the droning buzz of the flies – is the best flash, but there’s no innovation whatsoever in there.

That this young lady has been presenting multimedia works at Venice’s Biennale and other important exhibitions around Europe shows that, most probably, she possesses some degree of talent in diverse artistic fields. Certainly not as a composer of remarkable music, at least judging by this particular showing.